You know, things have been a little slow around the 'ol garage. Maybe it's time for me to look for something else. Something a bit more challenging - and rewarding! I've always been a 'people-person' and love just chillin' out and talking with cool strangers. You know, about whatever... just killing time. And if I could turn that into a job (with a minimal amount of work, LOL), well, then sign me up!
Lucky for me, my friend Tony showed me this GREAT ad on Craigslist! It sounds awesome! I love going to strangers' houses, having them undress and then spraying chemicals all over their bare skin. Nothing beats seeing hours of scarred, sagging, flaking, doughy, blotchy skin a mere 8-12 inches away from your face for several hours a day while you breathe in a delicate bouquet of stale-pantyhose-crotch BO, crack rot and dihydroxyacetone.
I've been wanting to get more into the beauty industry cause it so glamorous and everyone is awesome and all. And everyone looks better with a tan so I'll be helping people, too! I mean, look what this lady sez:
"I am so sexy...instant cleavage, better than a water bra... " - Sarina M., San Diego, CA
And it totally sounds like these guys have done their homework!
Well, we had to struggle in the beginning too to get into this industry. There was so much mobile airbrush spray tanning information and professional competition that it was very intimidating. We pushed past a lot of the hype and spent a long time making connections and establishing relationships with industry experts so that we could in turn deliver that knowledge to you.
You just want to know which door to unlock to start your own your airbrush tanning business. We have the keys that you have been searching for.
Good thing the hours are flexible too so I can sleep off the crazy
nights of Zima and 'raising the roof' at Shooter's Tuesdays 80's Night, Wednesday's Ladies' Night with Da Girlz (hey, y'all!) and Thursday's Margarita Madness at El Loco's Cantina and T-Shirt Shop.
And I have nothing else to do since that Quixtar thing didn't work out.
Oh, man... this is awesome. As someone with an incredibly difficult time not hopping online every 7 minutes to read Digg or HuffingtonPost, this little gadget is a silver bullet.
When you are supposed to be working hard - focusing on pivot tables, Powerpoints and byzantine work-flow documents - you inevitably hop online and take a quick spin through your Yahoo email or satiate your Furries fetish. Not particularly productive.
The savvy user knows a couple slick keyboard short-cuts to hide the incriminating windows when peering eyes poke about but a novice internet addict is stuck with clumsy mouse clicks and the constant fear of being busted by The Man.
Honestly, it's amazing that this hasn't been developed already. The StealthSwitch is a simple little plastic piece that sits on the floor under your workspace that allows you to instantly bail out of shady online activities. A quick tap of your foot and all your slacker open windows drop from sight to be replaced by work-safe alternatives.
™ will hide any application, including browsers, Office Documents,
Download windows, video players, audio players, Instant messengers etc
Of course, installing this on a co-worker's computer would be hoot. Watch them call in 'The IT Guys' and swear up and down that they are not doing anything wrong.
Remember when rock lyrics were about to destroy American society? Ah, those were the good old days. Communism was all but defeated, Reagan welcomed morning in America and all we had to worry about was what trend was going to follow the Valley Girl scene.
Frank Zappa was ahead of his time. Or, perhaps perfectly synched with the need for a reasonable, rational balance to the government's and church's frantically misguided concern that America's children were being ruined by pop music. He stood all but alone in the fight to defuse the rampant hysteria that fueled the threat of imposition of rather considerable degrees of government-sponsored censorship of art.
Zappa is calm and collected - confident in his point of view while Lofton scurries around foaming at the mouth taking wild, vague jabs at the concept of free speech and how it applies to rock music. With not much to present, Lofton relies on the old stand-by for anyone who has obviously run out of arguments - Hitler. Lofton tries to draw parallels between Hitler and rock lyrics - as if Twisted Sister was somehow rallying kids to don bad wigs and gather up all the schoolmates to be gassed in the gymnasium. Zappa stays on point and stands firm with a minimum of eye-rolling.
And Zappa nails, via prediction, the current (and strengthening) movement towards a fascist theocracy as the foundation for American government. Damn, that was prescient.
My favorite exchange:
Zappa: What I tell kids - and I have been telling kids for quite some time - first to register to vote and second, as soon as they are old enough - to run for something.
Lofton: "Do really think that's gonna give kids hope - to tell them to go register to vote?"
I was at Best Buy the other day getting some DV tapes and a new SD card - and gawking at the positively massive televisions. While in the checkout line I noticed that guitar legend Eddie Van Halen was on the cover of this months Guitar World magazine. "Good for him", I thought. After I had seen that photo
of him at an award show, I figured his days were over.
But then I looked closer - I actually took two side-steps out of line (after exchanging the universal 'I'll be right back - you'll let me back in, right? look.) Something didn't look right with the cover.
Look closely... does something look odd to you? Something look a tad off? For a 50-ish guitarist who has been battling Grade A alcoholism, a long dance with meth, cancer and the collapse of his marriage, well, shit... he's in killer shape. What the fuck? Is he swimming fucking laps all day?
Then look some more. The mottled skin of his face doesn't really match the slick skin on his shirtless body. And his head doesn't seem to line up properly with his torso. The natural 'Y' axis seems, unnatural. Maybe it is the shadow, but it really looks like his head is shifted too far to the left (your right). And then if you relax your vision and do one of those Magic Eye looks, you see his head almost do that weird 3-D thing.
I'm calling it a Photoshop. But it was a nice touch to get his necklace tomatch.
No fucking way. No. There is no fucking way you are allowed to cry. Fuck that... fuck you.
You - the evil Christian evangelical nightmare that has dragged this country into fucking religious war. You - the bullshit 'regular guy cowboy' who is all but owned by Big Oil and billionaires who shit on the very type of person you purport to be. You - an entitled white frat boy who has never had to work a day in his life.
You have tortured, detained, beaten, abused and killed prisoners and those you merely thought could be - just may be - be terrorists. You have terrorized your own countrymen with lies of impending doom and endless impending destruction. You have made the world a much more dangerous place. You have made a mockery of the Presidential office and our government as a whole. You have horrifically abused the trust of a nation. You have allowed corporations to feast on the middle class while the wealthy make historic leaps in earnings.
You have stolen our money. You have stolen our children's money. You have squandered what little respect we
had left in the world. You have taken our rights. You have spied on our
people. You have killed tens of thousands foreign civilians. You have turned Christianity into a brutal tool of fundamentalist violence an par with the very people who you believe to be religious extremists.
Your tears are meaningless. Your contrived emotional concern is a fucking insult to those that have died in this war. Your arrogance and sheer idiocy has all but bankrupted this country and your well-choreographed crying scene is fucking disgusting.
A couple days ago I did something that I have always wanted to do. I went to an indoor shooting range and shot a handgun. (Thanks, Isabel!)
I'm pretty sure that the gun to the upper-left is the same one that I used.
It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and we had already done the walking-in-the-park thing. Our next goal was to find this cool junkyard and scrounge for art project fodder. When we couldn't find the place, we decided to check out the gun range that was in the area.
The first thing I noticed when I walked in was the smell of gunpowder, unfamiliar muffled popping noises and some guy with a big snake around his neck. We waited our turn at the counter and was quickly addressed by a portly hispanic fellow who didn't seem all that comfortable with strangers.
The guy was so quick to impress us with his gun-ness that he was able to work in a Red Dawn reference within the first 5-6 stilted sentences. (FYI: "Red
Dawn? You must know it - the greatest pro-gun movie ever? I mean, they
actually show the jackbooted communist thugs prying the guns from cold
dead hands.") And when he saw my Colorado license his eyes lit up. Apparently, Colorado has very loose weapons laws and you are allowed to shoot flamethrowers, Gatling Guns, M16s... all sorts of big ticket bang-bangs. He asked if I had ever taken advantage of this gun fan paradise. I said "Not yet."
After filling out a tiny form we were shown The Gun. It looked alot like a BB Gun I used to have so it seemed a little familiar. But I watched the very short lesson carefully. I may be confident, but, guns are serious business. The guy showed us how to load the bullets into the clip, how to cock the gun and, almost as an afterthought, where the safety was located.
After donning the mandatory ear and eye protection, we entered the shooting area. The floor was littered with shells and the gun blasts of various timbres echoed off the concrete walls. It was louder than I thought it would be. I swear, someone snuck a tank in there - or was firing a bazooka.
I put the gun on the little shelf and grabbed my target. After playing so many gun video games, I had to have something more than your standard target - I got one with a tough-looking terrorist type holding a gun to a hostage's head. I rolled it back about 20 yards.
I loaded five bullets into the clip and popped it into the pistol. It didn't explode - that was nice. I took my stance and a eyeballed the terrorist. I squeezed off a round. Holy fuck. That thing was powerful. I took a deep breath and snapped off the last four rounds. After a re-load, I spun through five more and rolled the target back.
It looked like I popped the bad guy in the head three times, shoulder once and gut once. The rest missed the target all together, I guess. Not too shabby. Thank you, Duck Hunt.
Another 12 bullets or so had me more confident - so I perpetrated like I was a gangsta and fired off rounds as fast as I could. When I rolled the target back I saw that I had drilled a few holes into the hostage. You can see my finger through one of the holes in the pic above.
Game over - I was out of tokens.
One thing I learned: It is no wonder guns kill people. They are fucking crazy-dangerous.